


1926 Glacomo Contento Monfortino

by hailholylight



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Will Graham, Breathplay, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24170566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailholylight/pseuds/hailholylight
Summary: Will wasn't sure how he ended up in Hannibal's bed, and he isn't sure if he wants to be, but Hannibal takes all the same.A PWP I wrote at 3 am after finishing season two.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	1926 Glacomo Contento Monfortino

**Author's Note:**

> the title is the name of a wine. bottles go for $1,312 each on average but can be sold for up to $1,695. it's a nebbiolo, a type of wine which has a distinctive scent; it's often described as "tar and roses". i think Hannibal would enjoy that.

It wasn't entirely clear how Will got into Hannibal's bed. There was a breath of silence between them, Hannibal's face only centimeters away from Will's, desire pouring out of him in waves. Will could've pulled back, he could've gotten up and left and never said a word about it again, but with all of the possibilities running through his mind, he couldn't quite find the strength to do so. In fact, with Hannibal sitting so close, his strength only got weaker by the second.   
  
Hannibal reached for him, cupped his face in his head, Will embraced it, tilted his head to more fully be held. He closed his eyes and he could imagine waves hitting the shore with the same gentleness, the same longing to be closer. This no longer felt like the man Will had shared so many criminal dinners with, had so many secret conversations with, had so much in common in. It felt like a man he met at an opera with his face cover. Hannibal felt like a man writing a poem, a man painting. He felt like a man in love-- the thought hit him so quickly and with such force that he was launched out of his imagination and into Hannibal's arms, arms which were now wrapped around him in an embrace. Will was light and air and heat, but Hannibal had managed to get a hold on him. He pressed a delicate kiss to the top of his head, then slowly pushed him back onto the bed, retaining eye contact as best he could with Will trying to avoid it. There were so many details that were far more interesting. All of the performance of disgust fell away and in that moment, Will truly saw him and all of his flaws. And he stayed.   
  
Everything moved in a blur. His hands were over his head, Hannibal keeping them strictly in place. They were looking each other in the eye, Hannibal's shirt somewhere on the floor, along with Will's jeans, and then-- in a flash-- they were not. Will was turned over, Hannibal somehow having his grasp on Will's wrists the entire time. His other hand was freely roaming Will's waist and back while straddling his hips. Will's face was pushed into a small gap that had formed between pillows. It allowed him a small respite of air when he tilted his head down, and near suffocation when he wasn't actively holding his head in that position. He couldn't lift his head very high up with the place Hannibal had taken on his lower back, and he would've have been surprised if that wasn't intentional. He flipped so quickly between tenderness and brutality that he probably didn't know the difference. The kind of man to court another by burning a few bodies in a graveyard.   
  
His lips were at Will's neck. He wondered how long Hannibal had been wanting to leave such an obvious mark on him-- teeth, and tongue, and bruised skin. It hurt, how his shoulders hurt, how his back hurt, but there was a strange /want/ underneath, the kind of want that urges to pick scabs and poke at inflamed gums. It was a sick sort of desire, one he knew wasn't good for him, but one that made him want to be a part of Hannibal's painting all the same. He moved one of his legs back, concentrating the cause of the pain to his right knee, using the other to move Will's thigh, effectively spreading his legs. His hand danced its way between Will's legs, took its sweet time while Will gasped and whispered and clenched his jaw. He wasn't entirely sure what was happening or if it was real, but he felt alive regardless. He felt his heart beating.   
  
As Hannibal made first contact, his thumb slick with what was either spit or lubricant, he also quickly moved his hand from Will's wrists to the top of his head, pushing it into the pillows. Will could slightly breathe through the fabric, but not enough to sustain him, only enough to remind him of what Hannibal was taking away. He flailed and squirmed, tried to see how committed to this act Hannibal was. His hand stayed steady in his hair, his other almost passively giving pleasure. Every question anyone had eve had about Hannibal could be answered in this dichotomy.   
  
"Firsts are euphoric," he said, in his characteristically cool tone, "I have no doubt this moment holds many firsts." He leaned forward, pressing more weight onto Will's lungs, and whispered in his ear, "I want you to remember how many firsts I allowed you. How I could have denied all of them with the same ease of denying you breath."  
  
And just when Will felt like he was about to pass out, or burst open, Hannibal grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head up. He sucked in a desperate breath, panted, and was shoved back into the pillows. This time was different; Will didn't need to panic. He could trust that Hannibal was going to give him another breath and so was able to focus on the feeling of lacking, on the hands easily claiming all of him, stringing him up like a marionette. and again, right when he felt his lungs about to give out, right when he was about to reach up and claw his hand off of him, Hannibal jerked his head back. Will came in that instant, shamefully and quickly.   
  
Hannibal immediately pulled away, getting off the bed and letting his eyes linger for only a moment before walking out of the room. 

**Author's Note:**

> i literally edited this as fast as humanly possible because of how odd it feels to be writing a PWP, so please excuse any typos.
> 
> hope you enjoyed, though, lol. feel free to leave kudos and comments


End file.
